Hey guys, yes I am back! Are you excited, no? Oh okay, goodbye then. Just kidding I am back with another angsty story yay. I will try and have a more humorous story out soon so you won't drown in all the angst and fluff here on fanfiction (thanks again to a conversation with DisneySara7771 for that (oh and don't take that the wrong way the angst and fluff here on fanfiction is amazing)).

This was requested by The IronRAVEN xvx who asked if I could write another story about Hades or his kids, so for them and everyone else here it is.

Disclaimer: As I have discussed multiple times in my authors notes (though I doubt that many people read them as they become quite lengthy) I don't own any successful (or not) book or movie franchise.

Dinner was over. He hurried back to the Hermes cabin while everyone else was still hanging around the campfire talking to their friends and discussing their training for tomorrow.

But he had more important things to do.

A small black bag in the corner of the cabin, his bag. He opened the bag and brought out a box. This box wasn't particularly special, or flashy, but it had the look of something that obviously meant a lot to someone. And it did. He grabbed a frayed blue picnic blanket out of the bag as well and hurried out of the door.

He went outside, spread the blanket out, sat down, and began to unpack the contents of the box.

Each individual card and figure was obviously immaculately looked after even if they didn't look much at first sight. He spread the cards and figures out in front of him as he always did, and he sat. And he waited.

He waited for his sister.

It was a tradition you see, every day after dinner Bianca and Nico would go outside, sit on the blanket and a play a game. It was a tradition that Nico wasn't about to stop even if his sister was out on a quest at the moment.

He waited on the blanket and stared at the horizon until ten o'clock. Bianca had always made sure that whatever happened, their games were always finished by ten.

And so it continued, every night Nico would go outside with his blanket and his box and sit and wait for his sister to return.

Soon it became a sort of ritual, and he started to believe, if he didn't sit there, if he left before or after ten, Bianca wouldn't be coming back.

One night he was sitting out staring at the oh so familiar horizon and he noticed something, some shapes in the distance slowly trudging towards the hill. Nico jumped up straining to see the three figures in the distance. He slowly recognized them as Thalia, Percy, and Grover. But where was his sister. He waited straining his eyes for when that fourth figure would walk over that hill. She would smile, reprimand him for not wearing his jacket, then laugh and sit down and play a game. But even as he waited, even as he stood there staring at the horizon he knew they were the three. Five shall go west to the goddess in chains, One shall be lost in the land without rain,and one shall perish by a parent's hand. Five people going on the quest, only three returning. They were the three, those on the hill top now were the three who made it back. He would never again hear his sister telling him off, never again see her laugh when he was explaining the rules, he would never again hear her fake sigh when he beat her again.

"It's a waiting game Bianca!"

"What?"

"You have to wait till your opponent makes the right move for you to use cards like that."

His sister bright laugh filled the air, and soon he was laughing to. He couldn't help it, his sister was so much more alive when she laughed it was like looking at a different person. And her laugh always made Nico feel better, her laugh always made everything okay.

But that would never happen again, the laugh, that laugh that lit up the air around her and made everything okay was gone.

And as soon as that struck him, that one chilling thought tore through his body. He ran. He ran far away from that hill where he realized it and kept running.

It was only nine thirty.

...

It was his sister's birthday.

Well no not really anymore, he thought, people who are dead don't get birthdays.

But he still celebrated it.

If you could call it celebrating. He would sit in his room and look through all the pictures of them together. He stopped on the last page. There was the last picture of Bianca ever taken, her dark hair being blown back by the wind even underneath her hat, her olive skin bright in the sun, and her mouth open in a laugh.

But Nico knew that would never happen again. Her hair would never be hidden under that hat, her skin would never feel the sun again, and her laugh, her wonderful, wonderful laugh, was now silenced forever.

He sighed; he had no tears left for his sister. He had cried them all out when she first died, now the hurt was a scar. A scar left by a deep, gruesome cut into him. But a scar none the less, he wasn't over his sister's death, and he doubted he ever would be, but he was done crying about it.

He kept looking through her old things, uncovering her old workbooks, a hunter's bow, and he even managed to uncover her old green hat.

Then he stopped as he saw something in the corner. A small black bag obviously pushed into the corner in the hopes of it being forgotten. He opened the bag and found a box. This box was nothing special, or flashy, and it bore the look of something that was once very important to someone, that had then been left behind.

He reached further into the bag and pulled out a frayed blue picnic blanket. He looked at his jacket lying on the ground and considered putting it on. But he shook his head and continued.

He went outside, spread the blanket out, sat down, and began to unpack the contents of the box.

As he started to unpack the box the memories came rushing back to him. He set out the cards and figures, still immaculate, and he sat, and he waited.

But he knew there was nothing to wait for.

After awhile of sitting there staring out at the horizon, he began to pack up the game, there was no use waiting for something that would never come, he learnt that before.

He pulled the blanket off the ground and roughly folded it, picked up the box and began to walk back towards the buildings of the camp.

He looked back across the horizon and could almost see a shadow of his younger self sitting there, waiting, waiting for something that would never come, a smile he would never again see, a reprimanding he would never again get, and a laugh he would never again hear.

He turned away from that place. That place where his world had come crashing down around him. Walked back to the buildings and didn't look back.

It was exactly ten o'clock.

Well that's it guys, tell me what you think and I'll hopefully have some less angsty stuff up soon.

Also some ironic song choices by my iPod on shuffle while writing this story including Dead Man Walking and How to Save a Life.

See ya later peoples

NobodyOfInterest